Always on a Monday
by uwprincess
Summary: Josh describes his perfect Monday.
1. Josh thoughts

Monday:

I always thought we'd get together on a Monday. Mondays are the hardest days for me to stay away from her; they always follow the weekend. Ah kay that was obvious but what I meant was that they always follow these two incredible days of being in the office with Donna when it is sparsely populated and more relaxed. She wears her jeans or her cargos and we raid the mess and we laugh and joke and it is truly a joy to be at work. Now I love what I do, but not _that_ much, Donna is the one brining the joy in this scenario. So that is why it would happen on a Monday. Because over the weekend I would exercise control and I would tell myself it was wrong and I wouldn't allow myself to go there. But Monday? Monday I would have gotten up early. I would've put on my suit and come into the grind of work, work, work till I was tired and not thinking straight and in a moment of weakness I would drift back to the two days before and the laughing and the closeness and the JOY. And then it would happen. I would call her in my office:

"Donna!" This would be the usual loud bellow that I give and she would come as if she had already been on her way and she would hand me the exact file I needed and I would have to ask her a question. (so far this isn't the steamy scene you were imagining is it?) Anyway she would try to explain to me whatever it was I was too tired to get and she would want to add more notes to the note cards. "Ugh, just move." She would say and shove me up out of my seat so that she could swoop in and make adjustments. And while she sat there scribbling away, doing her best to make me my best even though it was late, and even though 95 of the other staffers were gone, and even though she didn't get paid enough to care this much, I would realize it (again). I would realize (for the 100th time) that this is a woman that I love. This is THE woman that I love and that I want to spend the rest of my life with!

But I wouldn't say that. After all, it may be late and we may be tired but I wouldn't say that. Instead I would lean over her from behind, my arms sprawled on the desk on either side of the chair (and thus either side of her), I would lean in close like I was paying attention to her but instead I would be inhaling her perfume and wondering what that fuzzy part of her pink sweater felt like. Next thing you know I would be rubbing my left cheek ever so delicately across her shoulder glancing away from her in the direction of my computer screen. Her body would tense, but only momentarily before she asked as evenly as possible

"Josh?"

"Hm?" I would answer ineloquently as if I was in the middle of the most ordinary activity and not an intimate moment in my office. I would turn to face her then, picking up my head and lightly placing my other cheek against her shoulder in a lackadaisical sort of way (again acting as if this was normal). Our faces would be inches from each other at this point.  
"Whatcha doing Josh?" She would ask mockingly but also more than a little flirty.

"I was just wondering how you kept this so soft?" I would say, again focusing on maintaining an innocent _gee golly_ sort of nature.

"It's fabric softener Josh." She would deadpan back while unconsciously shrugging her shoulders to go along with her retort. This would thrust my face even closer to her own and I would take the opportunity to rub, in true Eskimo style, the very tip of my nose to her own. Her breath would quicken ever so slightly.

"And your skin, Donna? How do you keep this so soft?" Now this statement, cheesy yes, would be made in my hungriest of voices. I think it would be pretty obvious to her, myself, and any cleaning crew member that just so happened to pass by our barely cracked door, that at this point I have clearly past an invisible line of demarcation between "good friends" and something more. Between appropriate employer behavior and just a downright needy man.

I would take her moment of hesitation, her questioning glance to place my forehead against her own and turn the desk chair ever so slightly so that I can place my hands on either arm rest and lean over her, lean into her.

"Donna, I was just asking because it is so soft, so very, very soft." At this comment I would lean in grazing her face with my lips and my minty fresh breath (because this is my fantasy) and I would ever so softly cover her cheeks and chin with the softest kisses I could manage. She would begin to cry and whisper my name "Josh?"

"Yes, Donna?" I would answer but not stop my pattern, across her wet cheeks, the tip of her chin, pause right around her mouth and breathing ever so lightly over her lips and the next thing you know we would be wrapped in a kiss of passion like I have never experienced before. She would bring her hands to the base of my neck and run her fingers eagerly through my curls causing me to go week in the knees. I too, would move my hands to her hair, grasping and tugging her as close to me as possible, lifting her partially from the office chair anddeepening the kiss with every ounce of strength I have within me.

Minutes later we would come up for air. Tears would still be streaming down her face but she would smile at me and I would brush her cheeks with my hand and say "Oh, baby don't cry, be happy, please be happy."

"I am Josh...let's go home." She would proposition me with a wry smile, her voice almost matter of fact and buisness like. Her eyes would be a mix of apprehension and desire as she stood, took my hand and led me out of the office. We would walk to the car in silence but holding hands the whole way. As I opened the door for her she would pause and I would give her a gentler kiss, but one no less amazing then before.

"Is my place ok?" I would question with sincerity as I started the car. She would only nod, giving me a seductive grin that would almost keep us from making it out of the parking space. I would drive just above the speed limit constantly reminding myself that I had to stop at red lights. My hands would be shaking.

When we arrive at my door I would fumble with the key. She would wait patiently behind me, looking around the hall as if to keep watch. We would step into my apartment; she would walk right past me towards my bedroom. I would shed my coat and drop my keys as she crosses her arms in front of her and grabs the bottom of her soft pink sweater removing it in one swift motion over head before disappearing into the darkness of my room.

As a shudder of anticipation flows through my spine I take a gulp of air and try to regain my composure before jogging towards my room. I suddenly feel so grateful, so overwhelmed.

"Donna?" I would say lingering in the doorway of my own darkened room trying to decipher where she, or anything else may be.

"Yes Josh?" She would answer, obviously from the direction of my bed.

"You know I love you right?" I would make the statement and hold my breath, waiting for her response.

"Since the day we met" she would gleefully reply, "Now come and show me!"

Her laughter would fill the room as I bound towards the bed and grab her in my arms. We would share what I can only describe as a joyous and record breaking night of lovemaking and as I doze off to sleep dreaming with Donna and dreaming about Donna I would be so thankful for this seemingly regular old Monday.

Tuesday Morning, however, I would always wake up alone.


	2. Donna thoughts

Monday:

I always thought we'd get together on a Monday. Josh always has his biggest victories on Mondays. Mondays follow the two days that we have been down at the office strong-arming congressmen or calling in favors to ensure that we get our way. This may sound a little like working, but really it is a time for Josh and I to just hang out, be together, and get a little bit of our jobs done outside of watchful eyes and regular office scrutiny. We are nonchalant and causal on the weekends, composing theories on things that the government definitely would not want to fund, or practicing giving old Bartlet speeches with a few twists, things we know he wished he could have said. I really learn a lot from Josh on the weekends, and I think he learns a lot from me. But Mondays? On Mondays we get back to the grind, all business and professionalism (as much as Josh can manage I guess). We go through the day watching our weekend triumphs come to light to the general public as votes are passed or bills amended that had been held up in committee for months. Josh usually has excellent Mondays. And, it is after these excellent Mondays that Josh invites everyone out to the bar- his treat.

The bar on Monday night would fill with Whitehouse staffers eager to celebrate whatever victory Josh has deemed celebratory in hopes of possibly getting a moments worth of conversation with him, or Toby, or C.J. etc. And it wouldn't hurt to have a free drink thrown in there on Josh's tab either. He, of course, would outlast these "youngsters" who, unlike Josh, did not have the luxury of showing up to the Whitehouse the next morning a little late and with a pounding headache. So after the senior staff and I close down the bar, Josh would insist that he walk me home. C.J. would cast a knowing glance our way and Toby would push her into sharing his cab and off we would go our separate ways. Josh would eventually place his arm around me and lean into my body with his own. He wasn't really drunk but he would get even more touchy feely then usual. We would make it to my doorstep and I would tell him he could go home now but he wouldn't. He would stop walking right in front of the six stairs of my apartments stoup, he would place his hands in his pockets and he would just sway from the torso up movinghis shoulders back and forth, back and forth. He would stop, sort of grin upat me, his dimples showing but not in full force and he would say gruffly: "I don't have to go home." He would kind of shrug at this point and again begin swaying, ever so slightly, back and forth, back and forth.

"No, no you don't" I would deliver this line with a half grin to match his own and I would push the front door of my building open and slowly begin to move inside.

"I could, for example go somewhere else, somewhere other than my home." Josh would say sort of mockingly as he grasped the handrails on either side of the steps and bounded up two at a time.

I would still be standing with my back to him half in and half out of the door. "Yeah, I suppose you could do that." I would respond sort of flippantly as if my heart wasn't racing 100 miles an hour, as if I didn't hear the hunger in his voice.

"Yeah, I could go somewhere else and have a few more drinks, maybe some breakfast…" by now Josh has reached the top of the steps and is standing directly behind me. As he begins to speak again he steps even closer to me until his cheek is next to my ear and his chin is resting above my left shoulder. "I could do that or I could just stay here." His voice is just above a whisper and I can feel the heat radiating from his body behind me, he steps even closer until my back is pressed firmly into him and I can tell he is anticipating a dramatic change in our relationship.

"Yeah, you definitely can." I respond by laying my head back and looking athim over my left shoulder. This motion leaves much of my neck exposed and Josh goes to work on nibbling and kissing it in a way that is both forceful and gentle.

We barely make it up the steps to my apartment before he is ripping away at my blouse, untucking it, pulling at the buttons. He halfway finishes mine before he begins on his own white oxford shirt, tearing at the buttons in manner that I am pleased he did not use on my own peach silk purchase. And I may have neglected to mention that we have been clawing at one another since we left the stoup but now for a moment we stop, and breathing heavy we assess the "damage".

So there we are standing in my living room with both shirts halfway undone and a make out session that can only be described as fast and furious when Josh says it: "Donna" gulp of air "I am in love with you, and this isn't just about tonight and it isn't just about this past weekend but it is about all of the past weekends that we have spent together and all of the future nights that I want to spend with you." He finishesans is still panting pretty hard. His statement seemed to surprise even himself, and he looks at me sheepishly but nevertheless with a desire that cannot be disguised.

"Okay." I respond smiling in a way that I hope indicates to him the amount of love that Ifeel for him. I nod and placing my hands on his shoulders I look him directly in the eye. He grins with the most warmth I think I've ever seen him display and seconds later he is swooping me off my feet and heading in the direction of my bedroom.

My final memory would be of us laughing and kissing ever so gently in the very late hours of a Monday night. As I drift off to sleep Josh would hold me close and whisper into my hair and my neck that he loved me and wanted to be with me forever.

Come Tuesday morning, however, I would always wake up alone.


End file.
